New Vector
by CamioTheFox
Summary: A contractor pilot for the Federation is flung to the far edge of the Galaxy - now he has to find his way home between making allies with aliens, getting along with his uncaring copilot, and avoiding the ever-looming presence of an alien pirate. Based in/on the Elite: Dangerous world (Year 3300), Allard Warders will have to use his smarts and skills to make it out alive.
1. Chapter 1

The sound, or lack thereof, of groaning metal in space churned as the Aulin Enterprise starport rotated on its axis, whilst following its orbit around the planet of Nirvana. The cylindrical shaped station was approximately one kilometre wide at the centre, and close to ten kilometres in length, with an interconnected ring filled with grass, trees and such as an oxygen farm connected around the main body of the colossal structure.  
Allard Warders, a contractor pilot for the Federation, snoozed away on a bed only just large enough for himself inside of a metal living room, located inside of a pilot's dorm. The room in which Allard slept seemed to have been cast by its constructors with the idea that one wouldn't want to sleep inside of it for more than a day, with there being only enough room for a shower, the bed and a small kitchen.  
A sharp knocking on Allard's dormitory door pulled him from his dreamland, back to a cold, low gravity reality. Allard sighed, looking up at the ceiling above him.  
"Allard, mate, time to pack up. Farragut's leaving in a couple 'a minutes! Le's get on with it, aye?" a slightly rushed voice from behind the door stated, before its owner hurried off.  
Allard rolled himself off the bed, landing in a collection of personal belongings and food wrappers and such all piled together on the floor. He then made one last "Uuuhhhhgg" before finally finding the effort to pull himself upright. The man stood there for a moment, scratching his dark brown hair whilst wondering why the Farragut, the Battle Cruiser that he was flying with, was now leaving.  
"Finished fuelling, I guess..." He muttered to himself before searching for his flight suit.  
Allard's flight suit was the same as most other pilots' being a black full body protective piece made from a reinforced synthetic fabric, designed to both protect the pilot from personal harm in his ship, as well as a means for survival without oxygen. The suit was fitted with a life support system, though not as effective as the one inboard his ship. It could sustain an oxygen flow for around ten minutes, hopefully enough time to get to a safer location when in a pinch, and Allard was quite grateful he never had to use this emergency system before.  
A rush of voices and footsteps outside Allard's door flew past, before leaving him in an unsettling silence.  
'Where the hell did I put my suit?', he thought to himself, the pounding of his heart beginning to quicken as a panic rose in his chest.  
After a few more moments of fruitless searching, Allard threw his arms in the air, exclaiming "Fuck it!" before picking up his duffle bag and heading off, slamming the door shut behind. Allard made his way through a short network of corridors and flights of stairs, before finding himself in his ship's docking bay. The Eagle fighter in front of Allard made him smile every time he saw it, regardless of the situation. Allard had sunk a large portion of what savings he had to purchase this extremely manoeuvrable, relatively quick fighter on the premise that it would serve him well on his jobs. So far, the ship had only been critically damaged once in a dogfight on a job with the Federation, when they came under attack by a squad of rebel fighters, but apart from that it had proven its worth to Allard.  
Allard shook the smile off, sprinting to the ship before boarding it. The insides of the Eagle were quite pristine, or at least they had been when Allard had bought it. Silver polished finishes, walls and linings were now somewhat dulled, due to the lack of Allard's willing to clean things. The cockpit, at least, was relatively clean with the canopies having been cleaned while Allard had been sleeping the previous night.

Allard jumped in to the pilot's seat, noticing his piloting suit sprawled over the ground to the right side of the seat. The man frowned at this, before looking back to the control panels in front of him. First, Allard sent a departure request to the station whilst he fired up the engines, warming them to be ready for a fast pursuit of the Federation cruiser before it warped away.  
The station's docking AI began moving Allard and his ship to the surface of the docking bay, before unlocking his landing gear and releasing him. A small timer for Allard to leave the station popped up momentarily for the short time he spent in there, boosting himself through the docking bay exit.  
Allard couldn't spot any other smaller class ships around the outside of the Farragut as he approached, indicating that the battle cruiser was going to jump momentarily.  
The interesting thing about ships the size of the Farragut, being almost half the length of the space station it had been refuelling at, was that their interstellar warp jump range was incredulous. In what might take another ship twenty jumps, the Farragut was equipped with the kind of power to make that distance in one go.  
Time was growing short, and in a quick succession of actions, Allard diverted all power to his engines, before turning off the Eagle's Newtonian flight assists, leaving the ship hurtling towards the battle cruiser. A few hundred meters out, and Allard could see the faint desaturated blue fog forming around the hull of the Farragut, an indication that it was counting down the last few seconds of its warp drive charging.

"Damnit!" Called Allard, smashing his fist down on one of the control panels to his side. He lined himself up with the same trajectory as the Farragut. Allard's hopes were that he would drop into the same warp drive worm hole as the battle cruiser, theoretically sending him and his Eagle with it.  
The Farragut lurched forward, engaging its thrusters to move into the wormhole.  
Allard acted fast. He engaged his own drive whilst moving with the battleship below him. A robotic voice explained to him;  
"WARNING, INSUFFICIENT FUEL"  
"Well no shit, Eagles go 5 lightyears, not 5000."  
The first stop for the Farragut was in the 'Chraufao' cluster, just under the limit of the battleship's jump length.  
Allard mashed in a sequence of codes, before his ship began heating up along with the voice saying "MANUAL OVERRIDE ENGAGED. DRIVE CHARGING".  
A painstaking few seconds later, Allard could see the ship below him beginning to be sucked away by a brilliant light as his own ship did the same.  
The ship began its countdown procedure before jumping. Every time he experienced a warp drive, he could feel his heart racing, calling out from within his chest.  
"FIVE"  
A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his head.  
"FOUR"  
In the worst case scenario, Allard thought to himself, at least he would be able to get a ride home with a Federal trading ship.  
"THREE"  
Even if there wasn't an easy way back, at least the Federation would be there.  
"TWO"  
The space before him began to reconstruct itself from glowing white energy, forming a circle ahead of his ship.  
"ONE"  
Allard's ship pulled itself away from him, stretching unnaturally in the bends of light and time as he was pulled through the wormhole.  
"ENGAGE"


	2. Chapter 2

A spectacle of nebulae and stars being born and dying carved its way past Allard. The beauty of the universe never really could be appreciated, decided Allard.

Ten seconds of warping later, and the cockpit of the Eagle darkened to an emergency red lighting.  
"W-... What now..." Allard asked himself, trying to keep his cool.  
"WARNING"  
'That's never good.'  
"WARP DRIVE FAILURE. EMERGENCY DISENGAGE SEQUENCE ENGAGED."  
"Fuck no it's not!" Allard shouted to the computer, mashing in another set of codes.  
The heads up display of his console began to flicker red, glitching out from the commands he had been sending it.  
Emergency Disengages were one of the worst fears of any pilot. The system would try to forcefully push your ship out of the wormhole, practically dropping you wherever you were flying past at the time.  
Not a good place to be.  
"WARNI-. EMERGENC-. "WAARRNNNN-..."  
The computer seemed to scream at Allard to drop out, but he knew it would probably mean death, especially in an Eagle with a limited jump range. Would there even be any civilisation?  
He pressed on.

Fifty seconds had passed. Ten times the duration of what his warp should have been.

The warp drive ended as Allard's ship came to a halt, bringing forth a husk of what was once probably a giant star, but now was coloured a dark musky red, smouldering away in the depths of space.  
"Jaune... Where am I?", Allard asked.  
The computer system known as Jaune took a moment to recalibrate, before replying with "CURRENT LOCATION INFORMATION:  
SYSTEM NAME: OOD FLEAU HL-P D5-0 GALACTIC COORDINATES: 40,340 : -11 : 17,330 STAR TYPE: F3 VB POPULATION: UNKNOWN ALLEGIANCE: UNKNOWN DISTANCE FROM ORIGIN: APPROX. 43,900 LY"

Allard paused at the last figure, before saying "Recalibrate that last figure, Jaune..."  
"CALCULATING..."  
"DISTANCE FROM ORIGIN: APPROX. 43,900 LY"  
The pilot sat back in his seat, resting his chin on his knuckles.  
'43,900. That's like, almost eleven times the distance the Farragut would have gone', the man thought to himself.  
"How did I travel fifty thousand odd lightyears? That's not even possible", Allard asked, hoping Jaune would have some sort of answer.  
"REPORT OF EVENTS:  
EMERGENCY WARP DISENGAGE FAILURE CORRUPTION OF WORMHOLE DETECTED CONTINUATION OF WARP DRIVE PROCESS DETECTED APPROACH OF END OF GALACTIC STELLAR MASS FAILSAFE WARP DISENGAGE ACTIVATED"

'Corrupted wormhole? That's a new one. And I was dropped because I'm at the edge of the galaxy? That's fucked. I'm fucked.'  
Allard Warders stood up, the humming of his ship all around. The scenery was, well, spacious, but being at the edge of the galaxy had brought with it a new perspective. To one side, a star, albeit a dying star, burned away with the glow of the Milky Way behind it, and on the other side there was nothing. Void and the black of space, only pierced by the faintest glows of distant galaxies.  
A warning light on the front dashboard of the heads up display told Allard that his main fuel tank was now critically low, which did not exactly surprise the man, considering the distance he had apparently just traveled. The pilot looked to his right, causing the appearance of a system information panel on the ship's HUD. After turning off most of the systems save for life support and a few other essentials, Allard watched as the temperature of the ship cooled, causing the canopy before him to frost over.  
"Jaune...", Allard begun.  
"AWAITING COMMANDS"  
"Where is the closest starport? I need to speak to their Federal ambassador."  
"SCANNING, PLEASE WAIT"  
As the computer performed its scan, Allard walked down the narrow passage behind the pilot's chair, into a room with a sink and refrigerator. After looking through some cupboards, the man found what he had been looking for; instant coffee.  
By the time he had sat back down with a steaming capped mug of the bitter liquid, Jaune had finished its scan.  
"CLOSEST KNOWN FEDERATION SYSTEM: CARU SYSTEM, APPROX. 43,790.23 LY"  
Allard rested the mug on his right leg, silently considering his options.  
"And the closest starport? Any jurisdiction will do."  
"NO KNOWN STARPORTS DETECTED WITHIN THE OOD FLEAU SYSTEMS"  
"Is there anything at all?" Asked Allard, now beginning to worry as much as he should have been from the start.  
"... UNIDENTIFIED SIGNAL SOURCE DETECTED WITHIN CURRENT SOLAR SYSTEM"  
A circle around a distant object popped up on the HUD, locking it as the ship's target.  
'Aren't those usually pirates or cargo floating around?' Allard though to himself. 'Well, whatever. A signal is a signal, and that usually means life. No other options, I guess.'  
Allard engaged the ship's engines, leaving the shield and weapons systems unpowered on the premise that he would have to conserve as much fuel as possible. After pushing the throttle to maximum, he then disabled the ship's flight assists again to allow it to fly through space without needing the engines on.  
Drifting through space left Allard feeling rather helpless. He'd never left Federation space, apart from on missions such as the one he had been contracted to this time. And now where was he? At the edge of the galaxy, drifting towards what could either be his salvation, or death.  
"How long until we get there?", Allard asked the computer system Jaune.  
"TRAVELING AT 500M/S TO DESTINATION 1.072 LS AWAY, APPROXIMATE TRAVEL TIME IS... 7 DAYS, 10 HOURS, 30 MINUTES AND 43 SECONDS"  
'Maybe not. How's the warp drive doing? If it's still up I could try using supercruise...'  
Warders checked the system panel again, examining the calculated damage the warp drive had taken during the emergency disengage.  
"Looks pretty shabby." Allard muttered to himself.  
"Jaune", he continued on, "will the Drive be able to sustain a supercruise to the signal source?"  
"DRIVE DAMAGED. POSSIBILITY OF DESTRUCTION DURING SUPERCRUISE: 47.81%"

Allard frowned. He would not have enough food and water to last seven days adrift in space, and his fuel tank would be basically empty by the time he arrived at the signal if he used supercruise, meaning if it were a hostile, there wouldn't be much he could do to defend himself.  
"Alright, whatever" Allard sighed, powering up the ship drives. The HUD in front of him lit up, an indicator displaying the drive's charge.  
'What's even happening anymore?' Warders thought to himself. 'How did I end up in this mess...'

"ENGAGING SUPERCRUISE. DRIVE CHARGING"  
A humming from within the belly of the ship rose up.  
"FIVE"  
'The countdown begins once more'  
"FOUR"  
"THREE"  
"TWO"  
"ONE"

'Ah, shit.'

"ENGAGE"


	3. Chapter 3

Allard opened his eyes, the dying star moving behind him as his ship ventured forward at amazing speeds. While normally an object traveling faster than the speed of light might disintegrate, be converted into light energy, or another end such as that, science had allowed humanity to push past these fundamental laws. The entire frameshift; the ship moving faster than light in order to travel between solar bodies and their occupants, only lasted a few 'seconds' (relative to Allard, anyway) before the ship crashed back in to normal space-time, the promising glint of metal ahead of Allard.

A couple of sparks dashed about the cockpit, with Jaune complaining about the ship's temperature being critical followed by a warning.  
"WARNING: FRAMESHIFT MALFUNCTION"  
Allard opened up a panel listing all of the ship's systems, examining the condition of the frameshift drive.  
"Looks like its fried. Let's hope there's someone who can have a look at it..."  
Allard closed the panel, focusing on maneuvering the ship towards the metal figure ahead.  
As he drew closer, Allard could make out the features of the object as it rotated around, the red light of the star gleaming off it. It did in fact appear to be a station of some kind, though without any planet to orbit around. Instead, it looked as though it was following the orbit of a thin asteroid ring around the star instead, and its constant rotation serving as a way of generating itself low gravity onboard.

The small station appeared rather derelict, however the illumination from lights and signs onboard signaled to Allard that something must be alive inside. As he brought the ship in for docking at a landing pad, Allard noted the fact that his docking requests went seemingly unnoticed by the station. Despite this, he pulled the ship down to the metal surface of the structure and disembarked. As he trudged along the outside of the station, a few miniature holograms of what appeared to be advertisements floated around Allard, though the language on them was foreign to him.

After reaching a large solid door, Allard was left confused as to what he was expected to do. There were no buttons, no input consoles, just a dimly glowing blue orb in the centre of the door. He thought for only a moment before giving up and simply bashing his hand on the door a few times. After no reply, he tried again.  
This time, the orb turned to a red glow, and seemed to look down to him from above. A foreign sensation took hold of Allard; a husky voice bellowed within his head, speaking a language he could not decipher.  
Telepathic communications were not used in Federal space, failed experiments and damaged minds had caused a ban on them a long while ago, but this place did not seem to conform to any government body. Upon realising what the device was, Allard tried communicating back with his own thoughts, directing them at the orb.  
'I need help. Ship is broken. Need to fix.'  
An unintelligible reply followed, along with a holographic display above the orb of an alien figure. The creature reminded Allard of a mix between the old Sol creatures of a Praying Mantis and an Ant Eater. Protruding from the front of the alien's head was the characteristic snout of the Ant Eater, while its stance and body were thin like a Mantis. Allard tried communicating once again.  
'You speak my words?'  
More gibberish.  
'Standard Galactic Language? S.G.L.?'  
This time, a more intelligible reply came through to Allard's head.  
'A little... Why ship park here? What wants? What wants?'  
Between his response, Allard asked Jaune to begin translating the alien language as soon as verbal speech began.  
'I need help. My ship, it is broken. The frameshift drive is damaged. No warping', Allard thought to the alien's orb.  
The alien appeared as though it were studying something on another screen, before turning back to Allard.  
'We talk inside. Come, come.'  
As the alien thought this to Allard, the doors opened to an airlock room. Once the doors closed again, a breeze of air rushed into the room. Reports from Jaune on a PDA Allard had taken with him suggested the air was breathable for Allard, though extended exposure to it would give him respiratory troubles.  
The next set of doors opened, revealing the alien figure from before standing at the entrance.  
"Hello, friend", Allard tried speaking. Telepathy was tiring for someone not experienced in it.  
'Greetings. This is my... Bar. Is not busy but... Is home.' Thought the alien being to Allard, pacing forwards to the bar in mention. A few other souls littered the room, most drinking, some communicating to one another in whispered voices.  
Allard sat down, the alien bartender pouring him a glass of translucent green liquid. The bar tender also took a seat from behind the counter, and continued their discussion from before.  
'Your warp drive. It goes between stars? Can leave Ood Fleau?' The alien thought to Allard.  
"Yes, but it is broken. I came here by accident. Need help fixing it", Allard explained to the bartender as simply as possible.  
The bartender seemed to contemplate this for a moment, before raising his snout again and thinking 'I buy this off you. I fix it, you see. Then Gran'bul can leave this place!'  
Allard was not sure what to do about this. Without a FSD, he wouldn't be able to leave this place; he'd be stuck! Though without Gran'bul's help, he would be stuck here anyway...  
"What would you buy it for?", Allard queried.  
Gran'bul the bartender looked up in hope, before hurriedly replying.  
'Lots of things. Crew member, a bed in here,' the bartender paused to inspect the pilot's black suit before continuing with 'and new clothes!'  
Although he wouldn't mind a shower, Allard wasn't sold on the idea of trading his only means of escape, be it broken or not, for the alien's offer.  
"What about my ship? I need the drive to get home."  
'Hmm. You have point. Yes. There is one other ship with drive. Very powerful drive, but dangerous enemy is ship. Pirate. Is pirate.'  
Warders looked around at the other beings in the room. Did Gran'bul just rob the same three people to make a living?  
"What sort of ship does he have?", Allard asked.  
Gran'bul appeared to flinch at something, before relaying back to Allard "Is like... Is like, a saucer. Round shape and flat sides around it. Very strange. Very strong, Gran'bul never seen weapons like it before. Best not to resist; give free drinks and Gran'bul stays safe... Mostly".  
The shape of the described ship sounded unusually familiar to Allard, as if he had heard about it before, but could not put a finger on where exactly from. Allard shrugged it off.  
"Do you think you could have someone take a look at my ship, too? It's pretty beat up at the moment, so if I have any chance of getting this other ship's FSD I'll need it in a working condition", Warders asked of Gran'bul.  
"Yes yes, I take a look", Gran'bul agreed, before motioning for him and Allard to begin walking again. "So we have deal?"  
Allard sighed, disappointed that he would have to go to such lengths to fix this all. A short walk and an awkward hand/extremity-shake later, and Gran'bul was showing Allard around the station. Between the different accommodation rooms and utility-specific areas, there really was not much here to differentiate it from a human-space station. The make seemed somewhat similar, designs weren't too outlandish, and there did not appear to be and kind of abundance of alien technology around the place.  
Gran'bul turned this thought away as he lead Allard in to a smaller, medical room. At the centre of the room stood a bulky machine, with some kind of bed in the middle of it. The bartender spared no moment in entering in some commands into a console near the doorway. He paused a moment, before looking to Allard and thinking "What sort of crew member does you want?" to him.  
Allard momentarily pondered the question.  
'What sort of crew? What's he getting at.'  
In a quick reply to the alien's pop-quiz, Allard answered with "Someone like my piloting computer, Jaune. Helpful, and knows their way around a ship, I guess".  
Gran'bul seemed to ponder over this for a few moments, considering some different possibilities.  
He then reached out to Allard's hand, motioning for him to give Gran'bul the Pilot's Federation PDA Allard had been holding. Allard handed it over, curious as to what the alien thought he was doing with it. After plugging a small cord from the console into the device, to Allard's surprise, the machine in the centre of the room began to whir. A glass canopy closed over the bed, smoking over with moisture and vapour. A moment later, and the machine stopped. Gran'bul handed the PDA back to the confounded Allard, unsure of what might have just happened.

Allard Warders stepped back as the glass canopy over the bed removed itself, revealing the figure of a woman, seemingly in her late teens, laying where there had previously been nothing. While Allard knew of cloning, and the crimes associated with its practice, he had never seen a being constructed in a matter of seconds; it was something foreign even to him in the year 3300.  
After a moment of bewilderment, Allard slowly approached the machine with the girl laying on its bed. Gran'bul observed the man's actions, amused at his curiosity and bewilderment. Once at the bed, Allard noticed the girl was in fact naked. As she opened her eyes, looking up at Allard, he pulled back in embarrassment. She sat up, knocking her head on the roof of the machine with a clang. She grabbed at her head, letting out a small cry of pain. Whilst she was distracted, Allard moved back to Gran'bul asking for an explanation.  
"Is Female. Opposite sex of you. Mind is made up from thoughts of girls. These from your head, your thoughts. Also has knowledge from device, computer system. For ship, see? Will know ship very well!", Gran'bul cheerfully thought to Allard.  
"She's from my thoughts? Like, an ideal girl or something?" Said Allard, wondering what kind of girl she would be if she were from his mind.  
"Sort of", thought Gran'bul to Allard. "though, Gran'bul add some random to it, see? Look at hair!" He said motioning at the girl, who was now standing behind the machine, poking her head out looking at them.  
Allard noticed what Gran'bul was trying to say; her hair was golden yellow - not quite blond - at the top, and at around her ear height, it changed to a brown, down to its end just past her shoulders. The combination of this girl's hair, thin and smooth facial features portrayed to Warders that she would probably be somewhat timid, or lighthearted.

This idea went out the airlock when she picked up and hurled a piece of junk metal laying on the floor at Warders, impacting straight on his forehead.


End file.
